Take Me In
by Crystallinee
Summary: She was once lifeless in his arms, a perfect porcelain doll dripping of acid, and he decided to change her. This is the story of how Gotham's clowns became the deadliest. The Joker x Harley Quinn. Suicide Squad-verse. Vampire AU. Mature and sexual themes. Romance.
1. I

**Dedicated to my dear Juney-chan. Happy birthday and thank you for being my source of inspiration.  
**

* * *

You press the knife  
Against your heart.  
And say,  
"I love you, so much you must kill me now."  
 _If I Was Your Vampire - Marilyn Manson_

* * *

She stepped out of the shadows, on high heels with black velvet strapped to her ankles. The men that had gathered in the street corner stopped and stared. At this time of night, the Narrows was perfect for business.

"Pumpkin?" A low, threatening voice drifted out from behind her.

"Right here, puddin'." Her red lips parted in a big, welcoming smile, teeth glimmering in the dim light from the street lamps. She took another step out into the street, approaching the men, and whistles and shouts flew through the air. Harley giggled and made a little pirouette, presenting her black skintight leather suit from all angles.

In one swift movement she was standing in front of one of the men, staring him up and down and nodding approvingly. "You're cute."

"Hey there -"

"Sorry boys, I ain't got no time to play!"

Her hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him close. His eyes widened just as she let her lips sweep across his throat, before biting down, crushing flesh and arteries. Warm, wet blood filled her mouth and she buried her nails into his chest. The other men cheered on loudly, drunken and confused calls bouncing off the walls.

Harley withdrew with a grimace, shuddering at the unclean taste. The man slumped over her shoulder and she shook him off, seeing the pool of blood staining his shirt.

She winked at the others and blew a kiss. "I hope you'll be good boys, or I'll hunt you down!"

"Now Harley, why don't you wait your turn?"

He came strolling out of the dark, his big toothy grin shocking the men into silence. It didn't falter as he stopped, meeting the shocked gazes of his preys. The men started backing off instinctively, shattering into different directions. One made a run for it and Harley dashed after him, quicker than a snake attacking, disappearing into the shadows with an acrobatic leap. "We ain't done yet!"

"You're welcome to join us tonight", Joker reassured the others with a maniacal smile. "The fun has just started!" He picked something up from his pocket, the thick, slightly curved blade gleaming ominously. He stroked the knife tenderly with his fingertips. "It's been _aching_ all night! Which one of you gentlemen would like to start?"

None of them stayed to honor his invitation, but their escape attempts were wasted; his beloved knife wanted to play just as much as he did. He caught one of the men around the waist and threw him onto the ground. Joker skipped over to him, giggling to himself as he heard the sound of the spine cracking.

.

Harley rose from the ground, a bit unsteadily, and dusted herself off. The corpse at her feet was already cold and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then let the loud screams guide her back through the dark streets. A part of her wanted to continue the hunt now when she had started, to follow the trails all around her into alleys and gates.

The alcohol from the blood she'd consumed made her a bit unfocused, but at least the guy had not been a junkie. Last time she had been crawling back through the street afterwards, trying to keep herself from falling over into a heap as the street turned violently around her.

The Narrows reminded her vaguely of another time, when she had been hurrying home from work through the streets on high heels, purse close to her body, keys at ready, always prepared to scream. Harley blinked a few times, seeing the world sway slightly as she passed through, police sirens in the distance not bothering her.

It was the primetime of jokes, of playtime.

"I'm back!" She entered the street just in time to see Joker rise from the remains of a body, that had been split from the head to toe. He licked a few drops of red from his thick blade.

"Daddy's busy," he mumbled, turning towards the last, half-dead body.

Harley walked over, trying to keep from swaying too much, smiling from ear to ear. She could vaguely hear some of the henchmen talk about the police coming. She threw her head back and breathed deeply, feeling the rustic smell of blood, alcohol and metallic, and the very scent that was the Joker. The smells were all around, intoxicating.

Six corpses were spread out nicely, big red smiles on their faces. The blood had welled out of their skinned bodies and flooded down the street, and she realized he still hadn't drunk much. A tense anticipation settled within her when she saw his eyes, that were barely a hue darker than usual. His ability to resist always confused her.

"Ya think they'll get here in time?" she giggled. "It's like the good old days... The clubs, blocked exits, no survivors..." She grinned, only to hear a few heavy steps in her direction, before his hand closed around her throat.

His eyes stared straight at her in a way that made her entire body shiver, gasping for air. He walked her backwards, until she felt the solid brick wall against her back. Harley thrust her hips forward, desperately trying to touch him, but he stayed just out of reach.

She knew his hunger must be bothering him, and she arched her neck as another shiver ran through her.

He let go of her neck abruptly, pushing her head into the wall, before his body pressed against hers. She ground herself against him, feeling him harden. His hands were on her wrists and her heart rushed. His aura was tense enough to touch her, the manic energy radiating from him surrounding her completely.

She gave him a sugary sweet smile and felt his lips on her neck, a velvet sensation a second before his razor sharp teeth tore through her skin. He was always rough when he took her, when he tasted her and when he drank from her, and tonight he was unusually worked up.

Her body pressed into his and he pushed her back against the wall with his hips, his eyes closing as he drank. Her hands wandered over his tight, black shirt and the white skin visible underneath, then grabbed his waist. His teeth assaulted her neck in a way that was deliciously painful. Harley tugged at his pants, whining loudly, which made his grip around her wrists tighten.

Venom pooled in her mouth, she wanted to bite him back, to devour him too.

She moaned quietly, as he held her in a vice grip like that, knowing her own energy would feed him and strengthen him again. After a while he withdrew with a slight grunt, letting go of her. A few drops lingered on his lips and she leaned forward to taste them, kissing him hungrily. She loved the light-headed feeling when he had taken so much blood from her that she was barely able to stand.

He put his knife back into his pocket and gestured to the henchmen that they were leaving, with Harley trailing behind. The sirens grew closer, people came rushing into the street behind them, and Joker got his favorite .45 out of his holster and shot them without slowing his steps.

.

.

.

The room was encased in shadow, only a small pillar of light fell upon the rectangle resembling a bed in the middle; a mess of crumbled up sheets.

Joker growled quietly and rolled over, shielding his eyes from the burning daylight. A thick lump in his throat had woken him up, a terrible itch. It worsened when he took a slow breath, the smells of the room rushing into him.

His other hand reached out behind him, searching for another body behind his. One that was warmer than his own, yet cold like a corpse. His muscles tightened when he felt the soft skin, and her sugary smell washed over him, mixed up with the metallic that she had. Dried blood - his mouth salivated.

He didn't know or care how many days had passed since they were out hunting together, but thanks to a certain masked vigilante, those trips were getting more rare.

Harley whined sleepily as she leaned over and started gnawing on his shoulder, not daring to actually bite without his permission. Her small, yet sharp teeth rubbed lovingly against his skin. His own need was growing thicker in his throat, it felt like he had emptied a bucket of sand in it. His fangs pressed against his grill and his lower abdomen tensed in anticipation.

She was so close, pressing her body against his, whimpering. He shoved her away.

"Please, Puddin'…"

He ground his teeth. He _was_ hungry, but she wasn't well-fed either. As much as he wanted to devour her piece by piece, let his jaws sink into that heavenly soft flesh, he had had no other meals for a couple of days, and she'd be weakened for the next day or two. When he drank too much from other people, Harley always threw a fit – _you must_ _drink from me_! she had declared with tears in her eyes and a gun pointed at his head.

So then it had to be her. He only _wanted_ her. His Harley-pie was better than pure cocaine, the only one that could fully restore him, and he wanted to take more than one slice. He had nearly sucked the life out of her a few times, until she lost consciousness for days, and he saw no point in resisting now.

He turned over, closing his eyes to shut that annoying ray of light out, and settled next to her, letting his hand run up and down her chest. She shivered in anticipation, eyes wide open.

Just like Harleen had been, begging him with her eyes and body, _take me and make me yours_. _Just let me into your world. Please._

Harleen had been wide-eyed, open, easy to form. She was once lifeless in his arms, a perfect porcelain doll dripping of acid, and he decided to change her. To force her heart to beat again.

Harley had purple shadows underneath her eyes that were unusually sunken into her head. She was hungry, he could smell it and feel it, but she always let him feed first. He would rarely return the favor, hating to be left weak after someone had taken from him, and instead let Frost bring her food – henchmen that weren't pulling their weight, hostages, and other criminals.

Seeing her in her deadly, sadistic dance with them was enough to make his blood boil with rage and desire. He often ended up killing her dinner despite her loud protests: _Dead food is gross, Puddin'!_

Now she bared her pale, perfect throat, and he stroked some pink strands of hair away. Her pulse was dancing for him, _teasing_ him, and he growled. She arched her neck in the same teasing way she always did. Her enlarged pupils almost swallowed up her blue eyes and her mouth fell open.

He let his mouth hover above her neck, her scent overflowing and enveloping him in a firm hold, his body locked in place.

"Say it," he mumbled, letting his tongue sweep across her skin.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty –" Her voice was getting more slurry, he couldn't determine if there was a hint of fear there. She shut her eyes, but he grabbed her face a bit harsher than he had intended. Her eyes opened and she stared right into him for a few seconds.

Their gazes met. Deep, endless, looking into each other's darkest places. Her blood was already eager to leave her body and flow into his, turn into his strength.

"Please," Harley mumbled, her hands latching onto his bare torso and burying his nails in his skin.

He groaned and then let his teeth find the warm, pulsating vein. His metal grill made the bite harder, and a thick river flowed into his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her upright, cradling her, as he sucked.

Strongly concentrated euphoria caressed his throat and tongue, every gush of fluid making his body tense. A faint taste of something acid flowed along with vague pictures and memories that he didn't care to delve deeper in.

Her grip around him grew weaker and her arms fell down limply by her side as his grip tightened around her. That part inside of him wanted to devour her whole, her flesh and bones, and it was most powerful like this. Just one harder bite would make her one with him.

She was already deathly pale, and his bite had been messy, causing the blood to run down across her purple gown and his hands.

Her eyelids fluttered shut and her body became limp in his arms. With a growl he pulled away; he had torn violently into her but the skin was already coming together again, soon there would be pink flesh and a scar there; the cicatrization had already started.

Her cheeks seemed to have sunken into her skull, leaving protruding cheek poison filled his mouth together with the remains of her blood, he swallowed it down and purred, then kissed her.

Satisfaction spread across his insides, he was full for the moment, his strength had returned. He carried her out of the bloodied sheets and placed her in the bathtub, then let the water run and wash it all off her as she weakly came to her senses again.

When she opened her eyes, her pupils had dilated and almost swallowed up her entire eyes. The wound in her throat was healing, and he could see her ribs poke out of her dress. He could physically see the blood-thirst travel through her body, her eyes were alert like a predator, following his every moment. Her teeth was bared. She was too weakened to get up by herself, but if he came within reach he knew she would try to kill him.

He didn't mind, as he watched the last remains of blood go down the drain.

He didn't mind at all.

Joker leaned closer and offered his flesh before she could attack, and he shuddered when her dry lips centered over his bicep, leaving a wet trail of saliva, before she bit down hard. The pleasurable sensation traveled through his body, of her taking back some of her own from him.

He let her drink until she had regained enough strength to stand up again. Harley stood up, then pounced on him. Weakly her lips sought out his neck and sucked without piercing it, entangling her body with his, desperate whimpers spilling out of her. He carried her back to the bed, and Harley's eyes wouldn't leave his.

He knew it, and clenched his teeth in frustration. She was in his bloodstream as he was in hers.

She had become a part of him.

* * *

 **A/N: Love to hear your thoughts!**


	2. II

**Take Me In: Part II**

* * *

"Ya think he's a night or morning person?" Harley ran her hand across a pillar and pulled it back with a grimace of disgust when a sprinkling of dust spread through the air. A million tiny diamonds floated in the light before scattering.

The Joker straightened up and wiped his mouth, his grin lingering. "Let's hope he's a night owl."

In the dim morning light falling in from the tall fluorescent windows, he looked angelic with the religious statue behind him. His skin glowed faintly and eyes were bright crimson. A fallen angel with a certain appetite. "Nothing's a like birdie for breakfast."

Harley admired his form for another moment before stepping over the body on the altar floor. With narrowing eyes she looked down at the body who squirmed slightly. The blood had spread all over the front of his shirt but dried into clumps and his wounds were starting to close together, ever so slowly.

She kicked the ground once. "Such a surprise for Batsy. The _greatest_ hunter of them all, and his own adopted _son_ –" She burst out laughing and the Joker followed, cackling hysterically, and they almost bent over in their shared glee. He looked at the body.

"Isn't that the greatest joke of them all? Come on. Admit it's funny."

The boy moved weakly, voice raspy and dry. "Help me…"

Harley imitated his voice, pitched high. She knelt down next to him, balancing on her stilettos and smiling widely as she heard him gasping. "Let's see what happens now. Is the big hero's gonna kill you too? Or do ya get a free pass to roam the streets like a zombie?"

She stroked Robin's matted hair, almost gently, seeing the look in her partner's eyes when she focused her attention on the boy. The Joker stepped over and reached out a hand and she took it, falling into his arms. They swirled around as if they were the stars of a dance show in the rainbow light from the windows.

She could see the venom lingering on his lips and she dove in to lick it away, shuddering at the taste. It made her entire body ignite and she let her tongue press against his fangs.

It brought memories back, it always did; she could never forget the sensation of The Virus' first contact with her body. She found herself wrapping arms and legs around the Joker, kissing him aggressively at the memory, growing feral by the moment, embedding her sharp nails into the back of his head. He immediately responded with a growl, trying to keep her from ripping his throat open. With her legs around his waist, he slammed her against the nearest wall in the church, strengthened by the boy's blood flowing in his body.

Harley laughed at the feeling of the back of her head slamming against the stone. She buried her hands in that green hair with more force than before. She didn't remember being human, but she remembered The Virus. How it had coursed its way through her bloodstream, in a thick sensation that was almost pleasurable, and she wanted to kill Robin right there; this belonged to her and Puddin. Something ancient that had been passed to him and now to her, her only. She felt more than heard her partner's groan when she managed to draw blood from his skin.

The young Bat apprentice had been writhing in pain for the last few hours. Sweat ran down his forehead and his lips were dry, when his eyes finally fluttered open, bright red. He grasped his throat, too weak to move.

The Joker turned his attention away from Harley to look at him. Robin gasped for the one thing his being now craved, his gaze involuntary resting on the clowns, and Harley's bared pulse point. The Joker took her hand as he led her towards the exit of the church.

Harley took a theatrical bow, all teeth and giggles. "Bye-bye!"

.

.

Barely a year earlier, Harleen Quinzel had been standing above a chemical vat, declaring her faith as his thumb stroked her bottom lip. Seeing the glimpse in his green eyes, the dark streak of crimson, knowing that it came from someone he had fed from, only made her resolve strengthen. She had proved herself enough, declared her devotion.

 _I want to be like you._

A devotion that he had fulfilled that night when he sank into the side of her throat. She had closed her eyes to take him in completely. He had grown harsher, unrelenting, drinking and giving at the same time, and she had been encased in a haze as he carried her away from ACE.

When Harleen came around later, it was past midnight and she was back in her apartment.

The first thing she had felt when she woke up, was the scratching heat on the inside of her skin, and the fact that she was alone. She ran around her apartment, looking for him, but found nothing but her own shadows. The Virus must have been incubating since several hours; her heart was beating hotly, painfully, as if it was completing a race against time. As if something physical was attached to her heart and growing in size and temperature.

Harleen turned over a bottle of wine on the table, that she had opened in an attempt to soothe the ache in her throat. She pressed the call signal on her phone, grating her teeth as the empty call signals rung in her ear. She threw the phone against the opposite wall with more strength than she intended and there was a shattering sound as the pieces fell to the floor.

She paced back and forth in her bedroom. She sat with her arms around her body and rocked back and forth, whimpering in anxiety, before crawling back, finding one of her shirts and systematically tearing it apart. The blue color stung her eyes.

There was a bottomless hole in her stomach, and she was hungry.

She tried to make sense of the last hours – days – to collect the pieces. She had stopped a car. A flashing purple car – the sting of her palms when she slammed them into the hood. She had made an oath. She had promised, yelled, taken the plunge. She had been asking, pleading, _show me what you are_ , and he had – what? She tried to remember, only to recall spreading warmth, a pain across her throat.

Confusion mixed with something white-hot behind her hands and she clawed at her own arm. She had never been able to puncture the skin before, but now she saw the pink tears in the skin and the dark droplets that collected upon it, sliding down her white skin in delicious rivers.

Saliva filled her mouth, and a violent urge to bite.

She put the arm to her mouth and sucked, eyes fluttering closed and a strangled moan leaving her lips, feeling the reassuring warmth. All the world's good tastes concentrated into one, and even though it made her stomach turn, it was euphoric.

Then she curled up on the floor in fetal position, still sucking at her forearm, feeling the strange prickling at her skin. It tore and ached. The blood in her mouth soothed her for the time being, but there was an obsessive worry in the pit of her belly, she wanted more. She mumbled to herself, shakily, hiccuping once, licking the wound clean carefully. Her teeth felt sharper than before. Only brushing past the skin felt like small needles.

By the time her energy had faulted and she obsessively started gnawing at her skin again, a shadow filled her entire window. A flash of purple fabric, and her window was open, bringing in a torrent of fresh night air, filled to the brim with sensation of smells. Her stomach turned.

The gesture was there in her window sill, his eyes glowing. Harleen giggled like an intoxicated child at the notion that someone was at her window – a green-haired angel, perhaps a superhero. To pick her up and fly her away into the night.

She pushed herself to sit up. The world was hazy and black flickered behind her eyelids – she had no idea of how much blood she had lost.

The man stood there and he was grinning at her.

"Long time no see, Harls."

A violent need surged up from the bottom of her stomach to the top of her lungs that suddenly scraped dry. She fought back the urge to vomit again.

 _You left me,_ she wanted to scream, _you disappeared_ , but it came out as a choked snarl. Another cramp from somewhere inside made her hands turn into claws against the floor. Her nails left clear imprints in the wood. She was trembling, sweat running cold down her back, her breathing strained.

Then, she saw him fully, in the light coming from the streetlamps outside, his open coat and the chiseled grey skin underneath, his sturdy pale neck with its tattoos, a throat with a warm pulse point, soft skin that just waited for her to sink into.

It wasn't the fact that he seemed disinterested in her state of being, even smiling down at her, while he was so completely open and _close to her_ – he was teasing her with his body, his blood, and he had left her to thirst.

Harleen got to her feet, as the room spun around her. Her body was unsteady like a drunken zombie, yet full of lean muscle and power when she surged forward and threw herself at him.

She heard his laughter in her ears when she tackled him down from the window and they collapsed against the wall in the dark room. He felt so fragile beneath her, she was certain she could crush his bones. Her mouth searched for that neck with her teeth bared, and she wouldn't give in until she had it. She snarled as she wrestled him, hands burrowing into his forearms, until he threw her off with a grunt. He was stronger than she had anticipated.

She charged at him again, relentless, until she managed to pin him to the floor and straddled him. Her mouth didn't hit the intended mark when his fingers suddenly grasped her hair with iron strength. Pain spread like a thousand needles down her scalp and her teeth sank into a spot right above his collarbone.

His hand was tight in her hair but she didn't care, pressing their bodies together as she drank greedily, forgetting everything but her victory.

She was taking him, finally.

His fingers twitched and relaxed slightly in her hair, as he grunted from the effort. Desultory images flowed into her, like strange memories, through the thick warmth in her mouth.

He groaned as she finally pulled away from him, dripping blood all over his skin and crocodile coat. She exhaled one time, feeling a kind of relaxation and fullness spread through her. Content and euphoric, she slowly became aware of how hard he was against her and her own face covered in his blood.

Then she realized what she had done and the euphoria turned cold.

Harleen backed away from him, crawled away from his body and into the opposite corner of the room. She placed her arms around her knees. He was still lying on the floor, legs and arm spreads in the way he had given in to her attack.

She had _attacked_ him. After promising how she would do anything for him, die for him, live for him – she could have killed him.

Her tongue licked her lips clean and she stared unblinkingly at him, her new eyes catching every change in the room, every dust particle. The scent of blood and _him_ was overwhelming, dizzying.

She couldn't move, stuck like a scared kitten, when she saw him rise to his feet in one movement and dust his coat off, as if it would help against the blood stains. His fingers tapped against his wound lightly, and she saw it had started to change – almost fade.

His eyes were wild when he approached her with a few steps. She followed the movements of his boots, crunching over the mess she had made before, and his dark eyes glimmered with amusement. He crouched in front of her and she smelled the blood thickly in the air.

"Ya have to finish what ya started, _Harley_."

There was a threat there somewhere, but she wasn't afraid of him. The feeding had left her feeling like she could throw him across the room if she pleased, and even the sight of his sharp teeth, glinting in the light, only made something warm run down her spine.

She wanted to feel those teeth, she realized as the realization prickled her skin.

She had never felt like this before, the presence of a man who could take her on, who could present something to her she had never seen before. Someone who was a match for her, an opponent of equal ground. Not a college boy left crying in the wake of her betrayal, nor a middle-aged professor with wife and kids who kept coming up with excuses for taking advantages, when she was the one taking the real advantage.

When this man had bit her, she had been pleading for it, asking to become a part of whatever his life was. She had found someone who was her own mirror image.

Harleen stared at his face as the impatience started hinting on it, before leaning in and kissing him hard, pushing her tongue between his lips. He was hers now, and she had just proclaimed it, with her stomach full of his blood, her face and shirt covered in it, and – heavens, his little groan at the touch.

Then, he pushed her away almost violently.

She was left even colder than before, staring at his face, his crouched and tense body.

"Mistah J," she breathed.

"I wanna," he drawled, " _hurt_ ya."

"Do it." She presented her neck to him, anything that he could take she wanted him to take. "Anything."

He grasped her wrist in his hand, it would have bruised her before but she hardly felt it now, bringing it up to his mouth and inhaling.

"Prove it," he said, keeping steady eye contact as he sliced the skin of her wrist open again, all the way from the heel of her palm down to the elbow. Harleen knew what a wound like that would lead to, but she made no resistance, letting him lick it all up way as the blood flowed, drenching his front.

Her skin seemed to be patching itself up again, incredibly slowly but enough to keep her from bleeding out. Yet, she felt a sense of lightheadedness strike her.

His arms encircled her and he lifted her up into his arms, to have better access to her skin. Her consciousness was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, fluttering away and stretching over the dark city then back to his teeth, how he worked her skin over from the inside out, and she realized what he was doing. Leaving his mark all over her, every inch of her skin, with each sharp stinging bite.

Every surge of pain made something tighten inside of her, spreading down her spine and across her hips, focusing in the center, and she pressed closer to him. He grunted against her and she wrapped her arms around his neck, to cradle his head as the desire grew. It was physically painful to have the layers of clothing between them, even as he systematically tore it away if it came in his way.

Every time his lips left her, she yearned to have him back, and she felt her own strength falter momentarily, as he took the blood that she had digested before – they could go on like this forever. Taking and taking back. Giving and giving back, mixing up their own essence over and over. It made a delirious smile stretch across her face and she was barely aware of it when he suddenly pressed his mouth against hers and kissed her, hard.

Warm blood spilled down her throat, almost made her cough, and she swallowed greedily, unable to keep from tearing at his coat.

"Please," she gasped," hands grasping at him, "Please, Mistah J…"

He growled against the skin right underneath her left breast, nipping at the skin.

His tongue made a trail down to her naval, then continued lower to the hem of her jeans.

"Do it," she breathed through her teeth. Chuckling, he slipped three fingers underneath the fabric and into her heat, fucking her with his hand. She shook all over, thrusting back against him as her lips parted, making a guttural sound as his other hand circled her clit, letting his rings push into her. Coating his hand in slick, she came completely apart in front of him. He lowered her onto the floor and brought his hand to his mouth as she watched.

"If you stop now, Mistah J, I'll kill you."

The promise of a challenge glimpsed in his eyes for a moment before he caught her lips between his teeth. He ripped her jeans away without any effort, and she spread her legs while clinging to him, intoxicated by the sense of blood and the Virus taking over her body.

He thrust into her suddenly, hard and deep, locking their gazes together. When he started moving in rough movements, the scratching inside her skin, the heat and never-quenched thirst exploded into one searing sensation. He chuckled into her ear, breathing fast and hard as she moved with him, locking her legs around his waist.

"We're already dead, my dear. You'll gonna die again very soon."

.

.

As the day's colors faded away into pitch black night, Harley rested on her lover's arm in bed. His tongue ran across a spot on her left wrist, that he held in his hands.

"Watcha think happens when Robin wants blood?" she mused.

She felt his teeth scrape the skin and he smiled wryly. "The killer bird strikes."

"Can't wait." She turned to kiss the side of his face as he pressed down into her skin.

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews are very appreciated!**


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